Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis
by Hikaru Morinaga
Summary: Six: The problem with this coffee isn't that it's not hot--it is. You just forgot the milk again, dear. MarthxRoy. One shot collection.
1. Habit

**Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis**

**-One-**

_Habit_

_Everyone has their quirks. For Marth and Roy, it's the fact that they argue over the most trivial of things to the point where, after Marth returns from work every day, they argue about something stupid. They had a weird way of saying 'I love you'._

_-x-  
_

"Roy?"

There was a thud and half of the things on the faux-mahogany desk top moved just a tiny bit. There was a hiss and then an, "Ow!" from the very same person Marth was trying to address. Marth winced and walked over to his roommate to assess the damage.

"Are you all right?"

Roy emerged from underneath the desk, rubbing his aching head.

"Do you always have to scare the crap out of people when you enter a room, or is it just me?"

Marth couldn't tell whether Roy was angry with him coming into their room unannounced or if he was just being, well, himself.

"I don't think I have to knock before entering a room that we share together," Marth said, and then gestured to the desk. "What were you doing under there, anyway? Preparing an ambush?"

Roy blinked and then stood, his head no longer throbbing. "Looking for where I dropped my pen." He grinned sheepishly, and Marth just rolled his eyes and sighed.

"You're always dropping your pens. It must be some sort of homework ritual for you."

Roy scoffed. "Just like you always have to be facing a door when you close it?" He watched as his companion sat down on the beat up loveseat not far from a cheap IKEA brand bookcase. It was where Marth usually sat to relax after a hard day at work. He wasn't a big fan of retail, but the pay was good and the hours were long and the customers were, nine times out of ten, asking questions where the answers were practically right in front of them.

"I'm just a little superstitious, okay? It's the same as your salt throwing thing when you spill it trying to cook something."

Roy wheeled the computer chair back under the desk and sat next to Marth on the loveseat.

"Why do we always do this?"

Marth was confused as he eased his arm around Roy's shoulder. "Do what?"

"Fight over stupid shit." He shifted so he was much more closer to Marth.

"Because that's what couples do."

"At least it wasn't like yesterday where we fought over whose sock was on the floor." Roy chuckled at the memory.

"It wasn't mine," Marth argued. "I don't own any green socks."

Roy pulled away from the embrace and put on his "game face" as he termed it. He basically looked like he was deep in thought and one outburst from anyone to ruin it would send them flying. Like when someone would play a game on the computer without saving and, low and behold, the power would decide to go out, and then they would have to start all over again. That sort of reaction from that scenario was what would happen if you said the wrong thing to Roy when he was being serious.

"It wasn't mine, either – all of my socks are either white or black."

"You own one pair of grey socks," Marth replied. He knew that simply because he was the one who got stuck doing the laundry.

"The sock was green, though!"

"Does it really matter whose sock it is? I threw it out because it was all crusted and it stunk."

"…You haven't had anyone over, have you?" Roy's voice was small.

"I've been working overtime, do you think I have any time to invite annoyances over?"

There was silence.

"…We really need to break this terrible habit," Roy said after a while. "We can't keep arguing like this. It's not healthy."

"Are you going to break out the 'make love, not war' thing again?" Marth had heard it enough times.

Slowly, a grin began to form on Roy's features.

He was going to make love, all right.

-x-

**Author's notes:** Yes, another one shot collection, this time for Melee and it revolves around a single pairing, though others might make a cameo. The title is German and means "fire to ashes, water to ice".


	2. Sixty Three's the Number

**Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis**

**-Two-**

_Sixty Three's the Number_

_Marth likes everything really cold. Roy does not. In fact, he'd rather not freeze his arse off in his own apartment, and Marth just sits there and sips at his tea, watching._

_-x-  
_

"Marth, I know you like it cold in here, but does the air conditioner _really_ need to be set that low?"

Marth said nothing as he watched Roy fumble around in their bedroom for a hoodie, muttering, "Goddammit, where'd I put it?" every time he couldn't find it.

"It should be hanging in the—" There was the sound of something clattering to the floor, probably nothing important, and Roy swore once again. "—closet."

At last, Roy emerged with his old Melee Academy Fencing hoodie and pulled it over his head, nearly colliding with the stupid doorway. Once his head was through and he could see (and therefore avoid a head-on collision with white-painted wood), his arms followed shortly after and he adjusted it.

Marth spooned some sugar into his tea and stirred it in, making sure to scrape off any excess that may have fallen to the bottom of the cup. That was the worst part about sugar – or any sort of powders mixed into liquid – it always ended up at the bottom, so when you would reach that point, it would taste absolutely putrid.

"If it's too cold for you, you can just find something to put on so it doesn't affect you." He carefully took a sip and decided it was still too hot. He frowned at the cup as he set it back down on the small kitchen table.

Roy scowled. "I'd like to be able to walk around our apartment and not freeze my ass off, thank you." He pointed at the thermostat. "I don't think it's necessary to have it set for sixty three degrees."

Marth chuckled. "No, you'd prefer it to be sixty nine. Then you'd probably think it was hilarious and try to make some sexual joke from it."

Roy stared blankly at his lover as he joined him at the table. "No, I wouldn't. That'd be Link."

Marth sighed and then took another tentative sip before spooning in more sugar.

"Would you like some tea with your sugar, Marthy?"

Marth continued to stir in the sugar. "Ha ha, very funny, Roy."

Roy leaned against the table, his cheek resting against his palm. "But really, why does it have to be sixty-friggin-degrees in here? Shouldn't sixty eight be cool enough?"

Marth drummed his fingers against the table as he watched the sugar dissolve into nothing.

"No," he said simply. "Sixty three suffices."

That answer did not satisfy Roy, however.

"_Why_?"

Marth shrugged. "Sixty three's the number. You should know that by now – we've been living together since _high school_."

And Marth just looked at Roy expectantly. He was right, of course – they had been roommates since 2006, when Marth arrived to The Manse late due to business having to do with Altea, and Roy was already there.

"But Marth," Roy said as he watched Marth drink his sugar-saturated tea, "Master Hand never _fixed_ the a/c, so it wasn't even _working_ half the time."

Marth, of course, knew this.

"That's still no excuse. You know the cold doesn't bother me."

"But it bothers _me_," Roy argued.

Marth rolled his eyes. "Is this going to end up in an argument we'll end up laughing about later?"

The only sound was coming from the air conditioner; Marth wasn't one to slurp his tea, and therefore, made no noise.

"…Probably."

-x-

**Author's Notes:** So I had a writer's block, and no matter what I did, I couldn't write. My muse had left for vacation and failed to tell me.

I'm like Marth in that I like my room freezing cold, but I'm like Roy in that I actually don't tolerate cold well. The solution? Wear a hoodie and long pants, even in the sweltering eighty-something weather in the beginning of July. The air conditioning in my room currently reads at a frigid "63", and when I was on my way to my bed-alcove-area, I was suddenly struck dumb with inspiration to write this. So I did.

Clearly, my muse was only indisposed.

And for the confused, this fanfic is post-Melee Academy, so it takes place after their (as of yet unwritten) fourth year of high school. Only after the major plot twist in Year Three is revealed will there be "spoilers" for Melee Academy, so until then, you have nothing to worry about.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you next time.


	3. Broken as an Airbed with a Leaky Valve

**Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis**

**-Three-**

_As Broken as an Airbed with a Leaky Valve_

_The bed's as broken as an airbed with a leaky valve and you're more concerned about other things? Where will we sleep? Am I talking to myself?_

_-x-  
_

"How the hell did we end up on the floor?"  
Roy threw the indigo coloured covers off him and glared at their bed. Marth stirred, removed from his dreams at the sound of Roy's voice.  
"'S wrong?" Marth stretched and looked at Roy sleepily.  
Roy crossed his arms. "I'm pretty sure it's obvious."

Marth yawned and noticed that the carpet looked a little closer than usual; he then immediately thought of all the alcohol he had had last night and decided it was probably all in his head.

"I notice nothing."

Roy took Marth's hand and placed it on the blue carpeting as if to make a point. Marth didn't have to lean over the side of the bed at all.

"…Why are we on the floor?"

"Because we broke the stupid bed," Roy replied. "I know you're a sex god and everything, but I wasn't expecting this."

Marth nuzzled Roy's neck and ran his fingers along the inside of Roy's arm.

"We can always have sex on the floor."

Roy scoffed. "What would the neighbours think?"

Marth nipped at the pale skin at the base of Roy's neck now. "Who cares? It's not like we're in public or anything."

"Our bed is as broken as an air mattress with a leaky valve and all you care about is whether or not we can still have sex?"

"Point. We've done it on the floor anyway."

Roy flushed. "…We need to get a new bed."

Marth shrugged as if he didn't care. "Not right now we don't. Maybe… Maybe next week some time."

"So you just expect us to sleep on the floor?"

Marth nodded. "You sleep on top of me anyway, so nothing will really change for you."

And before Roy could object any further, Marth shut him up with a kiss.


	4. Everything is Always Done Last Minute

**Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis**

**-Four-**

_Everything is Always Done Last Minute_

_It's Christmas Eve and there's so much to do. Too much for one night. I'll be more organised next year, I promise!_

_-x-  
_

_It's Christmas Eve and I've only wrapped two fuckin' presents._

_It`s Christmas Eve and I've only wrapped two fuckin' presents._

_And I hate, hate, hate your guts,_

_I hate, hate, hate your guts,_

_And I'll never talk to you again._

"Well, _this_ is a great Christmas song," Roy mused as he watched Link and his epic struggle with the roll of Jolly Ol' Saint Nick wrapping paper from his computer chair. Link sighed in frustration and said a few terse words in Hylian.

"If you're not gonna help me, then shut it."

Roy shook his head and drummed his fingers against the arm rest.

"You're in _my_ room, Link," Roy said as he gestured to the floor. "I don't have to listen to you."

"Do you realize how juvenile you just sounded?" Marth said, his eyes glancing at his boyfriend as he tried to read a book called _Epic Polishing 101: How to Get Your Swords and Various Other Lethal Weapons Gleaming to the Point of Blindness!_ "Are you sure you're going to be eighteen and not, oh, _ten_?"

Roy threw a bed roll at him; it missed and instead capsized the large pile of presents Link painstakingly put together.

Marth sighed and went back to his book. "Don't get blood on the carpet—it's a pain to remove."

Roy gave him a weird look. "What?"

"It says, 'When polishing the blade of one's weapon, don't get blood on the carpet—it's a pain to remove.'"

"That's why you wear leather gloves, Marth."

Marth shrugged. "I've got enough callouses and scars to prevent anything severe anyway."

As they babbled about various sword polishing techniques, Link, oblivious to the fact that his replica of Hyrule Castle was just destroyed, finally won the fight with the stupid roll of wrapping paper.

"Ow! I got a paper cut!"

Marth ignored Link's outburst. Living with him for four years gave Marth the ability to tune Link's craziness out. Most of the time.

-x-

One would never know that it was Christmas Eve at The Manse unless you saw the gigantic banner on the bulletin board by the kitchen and were wary of every single doorway in the place. Peach was in the kitchen baking the traditional Christmas fruitcake, along with several Christmas-themed cakes, cupcakes, and various other pastries with vaguely French sounding names. She just finished her third batch of cookies when Zelda poked her head into the Oreo-scented kitchen.

"Peach?"

"Hmm?" Peach walked over to the fridge and looked at their wares. "Oh darn, we're all out of eggs. I wanted to make some eggnog."

"Where do you want the garland and the last sprigs of mistletoe?"

Peach shut the fridge door and leaned against the granite countertop, giving Zelda her full attention.

"Where didn't you put the garland yet?"

Zelda consulted a list. "Stair banisters, but we weren't sure if we should put them on _all_ of the staircases… And what do you want us to do with the boys' dorms? Should they have garland _and_ lights or just one or the other?" She pointed at the list. "It's not really that clear…"

Peach digested all of this information for a brief moment. "Put them on all of them except the porches; go all out with the boys' dorms and do _both_; and as for your mistletoe question from before… Did you do all the doorways?"

Zelda nodded.

"Well… I guess we could hang them from the ceiling fans…"

There was a crash from the living room and the sounds of cursing in a language that sounded rather alien.

"Why the hell did I get the fucking _tree_?!"

Zelda and Peach both cringed as they heard something else break.

"I thought Samus was helping you with decorations." Peach raised one delicate eyebrow at her princess-companion.

Zelda sighed. "She got stuck underneath the mistletoe with Donkey Kong and is a little bitter about it still, so I told her to go decorate our tree and… I guess it isn't turning out well."

_Next year, I will be more organized!_ Peach mentally vowed as she tried to block out Samus's attempts to murder everything in her path. _No longer will this be done last minute! No more!_

"And if you touch me again, Monkey-Butt, then I swear to whatever deity is above that _no one will recognize your remains_! Not even the Nintendo God who created you!"

Donkey Kong gave out a cry that sounded suspiciously like a Wookie and ran out of the room before Samus could try to throw another rather expensive vase at him.

-x-

_And I hate, hate, hate your guts,_

_I hate, hate, hate your guts,_

_And I'll never talk to you again._

In an effort to drown out 'Happy Holidays You Bastard' and keep his sanity, Roy secured his noise-canceling headphones over his ears and blasted something, anything, just so he didn't have to hear something about grandpa 'always fucking shitting his pants' on Labor Day. He decided a Gotthard song was in order.

Link was still wrapping presents. His replica of Hyrule Castle made out of said presents now had a moat and a fully working drawbridge. All of these presents were, of course, for his princess and liege, even though he still hated her father's choice in husbands for her. ("Seriously, whoever thinks Ganondorf of all people is an excellent choice for _anyone_, go kill yourselves," he had said right before the start of her wedding. "Especially if you think he's a good choice for my princess.") Though he wasn't exactly 'bitter' about it much anymore, he still wasn't happy about it, and he fancied himself as a way better choice than that big nosed freak any day.

"Do you have all of your presents wrapped already, Roy?" Link asked, and was somehow heard through a chorus of "TORA TORA TORA" blasting through Roy's eardrums. Roy pressed a few buttons on his computer and went back to listening to 'Light in Your Eyes'.

"Damn hotkeys," Roy muttered as he tried to edit something in Microcrappe's latest version of OpenWord. "Anyway, what'd you ask, Link?"

"Do you have all of your presents wrapped already?"

Roy chuckled. "Of course. They've been wrapped since the sixteenth."

Link blinked, unable to comprehend how—or why—someone would want to do all that stuff _early_. There were more important things to do than sit and wrap presents—

—which was why Link was down to the wire, with an hour left before it was officially Christmas. He had to ignore the scent of cookies and cake and cookie-cake, ignore the demons of procrastination that Facebook and Wikipedia provided, and stay away from those torrent sites and Pop Cap games. He was almost done with his present wrapping, of course—and he thanked Farore for that. He fingers were blistering and his wrists ached from using a pair of rusted scissors.

"Why do we lack a decent pair of scissors?" Link cried out as they refused to cut a simple piece of paper. Link was trying to be rather artistic with the leftover scraps, creating bows and ribbons to adorn the packages. "And why are they not _left handed_ friendly?"

"Because," Roy began as he started a new Minesweeper game, "Master Hand is cheap with most of the stuff we use, and you're the only lefty in the house, so there's no reason for a pair of special scissors."

"Young Link is left handed."

"Young Link is _you_, Link. Just seven years younger."

Link completed his pile of Zelda's gifts—all twenty six of them—and placed the rest of the gifts in a sack.

"Actually, I think we're in a perpetual state of eight and fifteen or something."

"Young Link ages and you don't, so you're in a perpetual state of agelessness," Roy corrected. "Aww, shit! I didn't mean to click that and land in a mine field! Damn you, smiley face! _Damn you_!"

Roy's computer promptly Blue Screen'd as a silent 'fuck you'.

"No! How dare you get me addicted to your Minesweeper and then screw me over? I will not tolerate this! I, Lord Roy of Pherae, command you to _work_!"

Somehow, Roy's computer began working normally, as if nothing had just happened. Maybe it was the deep, persuasive tone Roy used, or maybe it was the sexy hand movements. The Pheraean didn't really care how it started working, and so he continued to play a new expert game with a whopping four hundred mines.

-x-

"I need help."

Link's plea for assistance barely registered with a bloodshot eyed Roy, who had been playing Minesweeper for the past four hours in an attempt to beat the game. Out of four thousand and forty two tries, he had only successfully won maybe forty two of them.

"Wi' wha'?" Apparently playing computer games for such a long time took a toll on Roy's Nintendian skills.

"With the _presents_." Link gestured to the gigantic sack next to him. "I need another able-bodied person to help me cart this downstairs."

Roy, bleary-eyed and sleep deprived, was about as able-bodied as someone with no arms. And to be honest, they were more able-bodied than he was right now.

"Go ask Marth." Roy's standard answer to everything.

"Marth can barely pick up his sword, let alone a fifty pound sack of gifts."

"Excuse me? What did you just say about me?"

Link turned around to see Marth towering over him, and that was only because Marth was balancing on a chair to get a book from the very top of his bookcase.

"Anyway," Link said, ignoring the very peeved prince behind him. "Since you're both too…busy to help me, I guess I'll just drag this stupid thing downstairs myself."

"Have fun," Roy said, preoccupied now with a game of Bejeweled.

"Beware of any books falling from the sky," Marth muttered as he watched the blond drag the sack of presents out the door. He heard it slide down the stairs and the screams he heard signaled to everyone that Link had fallen with it.

"Hey, Roy?"

"Mmm?"

Marth fingered the worn spine on one of his books. "…Who said Link could come in here, anyway?"

Roy turned around in his chair slowly; their eyes locked in an intense stare, neither knowing exactly what to say.

"I _did_ have the door locked, but he's got a lockpick and he knows how to use it."

-x-

**Author's Notes:** This is a day late (because I suck at deadlines apparently, haha), but hey, it's still the, uh, Christmas spirit. And posting it a day late doesn't have any penalties, right? In any case, this is a Christmas one shot based off of my experiences every single Christmas Eve, that is, don't leave everything until last minute, because it'll bite you in the ass later. I'm sure Link will start wrapping things a little earlier next year, hmm?

Oh, and the song at the beginning is "Happy Holidays You Bastard" by blink-182, off their Take Off Your Pants and Jacket album, which is one of my favourites of theirs. I just thought it fit with the overall theme.

Merry Belated Christmas, and a Happy New Year guys!

_Jayden_


	5. Mistletoe Said I Could Claim You

**Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis**

**-Five-**

_Mistletoe Said I Could Claim You_

_Whoever came up with the idea of kissing underneath the mistletoe must have been drunk. It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Yet…laying here in the snow with him in my arms makes it all worth while, dumb tradition and all._

_-x-_

Roy gazed out the window, admiring the white, fluffy, virgin snow, however blinding it was. It was still snowing out, and from what he had heard on the weather forecast, it was going to continue into the next two days. He didn't mind the snow, really—he liked it, if you wanted an honest opinion from him. It provided a nice backdrop to the bare trees and frozen pond, covering everything in a layer of white, creating icicles and interesting patterns were traced into the already fallen snow drifts.

"It's still snowing?"

Roy didn't have to look away from the snowy wasteland outside to know who had just entered the room. There could be a whole crowd of people screaming as loud as they could, and he could say a single word and be heard clear as crystal by Roy. The fact that his voice made Roy turn into a puddle of something resembling a melted Wicked Witch probably helped at the recognition.

"Yeah, it is."

"You know we can go outside and get up close and personal with the snow, right?"

Roy didn't realize he had that look of nostalgic longing on his face. He hadn't seen snow since he left Pherae for The Manse—he visited Pherae in the summer months, and it rarely snowed in Nintendo Land due to something they called 'Global Warming'. Whatever that meant. He finally turned around, managing to tear his eyes away from the beautiful landscape outside. Doing so caused his eyes much pain due to the differences in lighting.

"Is it really written all over my face?"

Marth chuckled and smiled softly. "Mmm. Just a little." He used his index finger and thumb to demonstrate the exact amount.

Roy got up and joined his boyfriend by the doorway.

"We should do it before everyone else is awake," Roy whispered before giving Marth a tender kiss on the mouth. "Otherwise the snow will be some weird colour, like yellow. And it'll be all trodden on and deflowered."

"If anything, we should do it before the snowball fights start," Marth added, grabbing their coats from the rack by the living room door.

Roy took his coat from Marth and shrugged it on, not bothering to zip it up. He was wearing a hoodie on underneath it, so he was warm enough anyway—enough to not die from pneumonia. Marth made sure his was zipped up, that his gloves were on and were covering his wrists, and that he wouldn't die from being way too cold.

Never mind the fact that it was just cold enough to snow. If the temperature was upped a degree or two, it would probably begin to melt. The fact that Marth was dressing as if going for some research in Antarctica was a little overkill, at least in Roy's opinion.

"By the time you're done, all the good snow'll be trampled on by squirrels."

Marth gave Roy a look. "I'm sure the squirrels are inside their nests with their families, keeping warm."

Roy crossed his arms. "Squirrels have been known to fall out of their nests. Then they'll fall on the snow, trampling and defiling it."

Marth decided it would be best to not press the issue. Instead, he led Roy through the kitchen, where Peach was busy getting breakfast together—eggs with bacon, pancakes, and toast with butter or jam—and left through the back door.

The steps were a little icy, and Marth almost broke his neck when he slipped and fell. Quickly recovering, he brushed the snow and cracked ice off his jacket and jeans before carefully making his way down the rest of the stairs. Roy, whose shoes had a lot more traction than Marth's, had little difficulty navigating down the stairs.

It was, in two words, a winter wonderland. 'White Christmas' came to Roy's head, despite the fact that Christmas wasn't for a few days yet.

"It's like Altea in the winter time," Marth remarked, walking a little ways away from the house. The snow went up to his shins and thus made walking difficult. But since Marth was from Altea and the winters there dumped more than two feet of snow in the calmer winter months, he was used to it. Roy just stayed where he was, admiring the beauty of the purest white falling from the sky and onto the ground and tree branches.

"You know," Roy said, slowly moving towards his boyfriend, "this is quite romantic."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. Yeah. You, me, in the middle of a snowy landscape. No one else around… Don't you think it's romantic?"

Marth shrugged. "I…guess so?"

Roy sighed, watching his breath manifest itself in the air.

"I know, I know. I'm trying really hard, Roy. But I can't see things that aren't there."

An idea slowly came to Roy, causing an evil smirk to grace his features. He looked like a kid in a candy store eyeing a particularly tasty treat. Without warning, he pushed Marth into the snow below, taking the Altean prince by surprise when he followed shortly after.

"Roy, we are not having sex in the snow," was the first thing Marth said after Roy climbed on top of him.

Roy shivered, thinking about doing such a thing. "I wasn't thinking about that." He pouted. "Can't we just lay on top of the snow, cuddle, and watch the clouds for once? Besides, we're by a tree, so we've got cover from any more snow…"

"A tree that has no leaves."

Roy scowled and he leaned into Marth's face just a little more. "We're still under a tree. A squirrel won't fall on us then."

"But the snow will." Marth did not like the prospect of being hit by snow.

"Marth. It's snowing out anyway. You're lying in a pile of snow. It won't kill you."

"Being buried alive will."

Roy's brow furrowed. "I hate you and your wet blanket attitude towards everything."

Marth's look softened. "Forgive me. It's just… You know how I get. I never did this back home… I was expected to be inside most of the time anyway, so I have certain…attitudes towards things."

"You don't have to talk so formal, either. We've known each other for how long now?"

Marth quirked an eyebrow. "Formal? How am I talking 'formal'? It's not like I'm using formalities or anything…"

"Most people just use 'Sorry, I was just raised to not enjoy most things in life,' and not some long-winded explanation that begins with 'Forgive me'." Roy wasn't angry—he was very much amused, in fact.

Marth opened his mouth to say something, but he realized that Roy had a point. "Forgive—" He saw Roy's look and corrected himself. "I'm sorry. I'll try to speak more…casual. However that is."

Roy chuckled and licked at a snowflake that landed on Marth's cheek. Marth flushed.

"I don't mind it—I'm just teasing you." He rubbed his nose with Marth's. "Lighten up some, huh?"

Marth muttered a, "Sorry," and looked up at the sky above. It was a light blue with clouds that reminded Marth of cotton balls floating. Snow flurried to the ground, landing wherever the wind took them, creating even larger drifts in the process.

A squirrel poked its head out from his nest, surveying his surroundings. He chattered to his squirrel-wife, something about leaving to go find more food because their nut supply was low. This squirrel was a particularly special squirrel, able to find nuts even under three feet of snow and two human bodies. Link had named him Foamy for whatever reason, and the squirrel-wife Germaine. They were, after all, Link's unofficial pets. They even asked him, in typical squirrel language, how Aryll the Seagull was doing on occasion. Anyone else who tried to talk to Foamy ended up being chased by a rabid squirrel.

Foamy jumped from his nest and bounced from tree branch to tree branch, making his quick, ninja-like descent down to the ground. Snow fell from the branches and made marks on the fluffy white stuff below, just missing the happy couple by several inches.

Roy rested his head against Marth's chest and snuggled close to him in the snow, watching the clouds go by. Marth pulled him a little closer and let his arm fall down to Roy's lower back instead.

It was then that Marth noticed something hanging from a tree branch. Something green and with dots of white and tied with red ribbon…

"Roy?"

Roy looked up at Marth instinctively after hearing his name. "Yeah?"

"What's that tied to the tree branch?"

Roy moved his gaze to the branch above them and he hid a grin with his hand.

"Tell me you know what it is..." Marth obviously had no clue, or at the very least, he had maybe some inkling.

A chuckle escaped from Roy's throat, and Marth eyed the seventeen year old with suspicion.

"It's mistletoe," Roy answered, sitting up on his elbow now.

It was obvious from the look on Marth's face that he didn't know what mistletoe was.

"You've never heard of mistletoe?"

"It's a plant. A _poisonous_ plant that kills trees." He sat up on his elbows as well. "I don't understand what's so important about it."

Roy sighed and shook his head at Marth's ignorance. "If two people are found underneath a sprig of mistletoe, they're supposed to kiss."

Roy took a minute to let that sink in.

"…Is that why most people have been avoiding most of the doorways in The Manse? Because there's mistletoe hanging from it?"

Roy nodded. "Link almost got caught under it with Young Link before, in fact."

"…Wouldn't that be like kissing yourself?"

Roy had no idea, and he really didn't care.

"We're underneath a sprig of mistletoe, Marthy," Roy reminded, using the cutesy nickname he came up with for Marth long before they had even started dating. "You're under obligation to kiss me."

"What if I don't have any desire to kiss you?" Marth challenged, getting in Roy's face.

Roy climbed on top of Marth and leaned dangerously close to Marth's face, tickling him with his breath.

"Then I'll claim it for myself, whether you like it or not."

Marth made a face. "Well, I think it's a stupid thing to do," he protested after a pause.

"I don't think it's stupid, I think it's _romantic_. Which is something you have a problem _being_."

For a few moments, neither of them moved. There was a silent communication between the two of them that involved a stare that said 'are you challenging me?' and 'oh, is that a threat?'

After a few more lingering gazes that seemed to focus less on Marth's face and more on other areas of it, Roy pinned him to the snowy earth below, traced his jawline with his lips, and then claimed Marth's mouth for the sake of Christmas cheer tradition.

-x-

**Author's Notes:** Once again, yes, I know Christmas is over. But I had this fic on my computer for quite some time now, and I just only finished it because I'm procrastinating on another fic. Instead of angsty, tragic Weiß Kreuz fanfiction, you get a fluffy, teeth-rottingly adorable MarthxRoy chapter about mistletoe. Funny how that works.

I'm having problems coming up with prompts for this fic, so if you have any suggestions, I'm all ears for them! They don't have to be MarthxRoy (though they can be, of course), or they could feature other pairings in addition to the aforementioned pairing. Or it could focus on either Marth or Roy.

Feedback is always welcome and very much appreciated!

_Jayden_


	6. Café au Lait

**Feuer zu Asche, Wasser zu Eis**

**-Six-**

_Café au Lait_

_The problem with this coffee isn't that it's not hot--it is. You just forgot the milk again, dear._

-x-

Roy was never a big fan of coffee. He drank it every morning before leaving for school as a pick-me-up, but he never really _liked_ it. He could live without it if he had to. He would much rather have a cup of tea with honey and a pinch of sugar than coffee, but Marth rarely brewed tea in the early mornings.

Marth preferred coffee, yet he mostly drank tea. Roy thought it was a little weird, but he never said anything to him about it. It wasn't like it was the end of the world or anything if Marth drank something he didn't really prefer much—just that it was strange.

So there they sat at their small kitchen table, Marth reading the morning paper, Roy doing a last minute assignment for his history professor, cigarette smoldering in the ashtray. The nineteen year old had barely slept at all that night, for he had to stay up to finish several other assignments he had forgotten about until last minute. Procrastination was not something a college student should ever do, but it was Roy's nature to put things off until he couldn't anymore.

Roy reached for his coffee mug and took a sip. Grimacing, he looked up from his assignment and into the contents of his mug instead.

"This coffee tastes gross."

The newspaper ruffled as Marth turned a page.

"It's probably cold," Marth answered as he repositioned his reading glasses. "You and I both know cold coffee tastes disgusting."

Roy shook his head. "It's not cold." Then, after a slight pause, "Did you put milk in mine?"

Another page in the newspaper turned. Roy loved how nonchalant Marth was about everything.

"I don't think I did. Why?"

"Because I take milk in my coffee."

Marth closed the newspaper and laid it on the table, folded neatly.

"You didn't always take it _café au lait_, did you?"

Roy tapped his fingers against the table, his history assignment forgotten.

"Yes."

Marth said nothing for a moment; he got up from his seat, opened the fridge, and retrieved the carton of milk. He kicked the door closed and placed the carton on the table.

Neither of them said anything.

-x-

**Author's Note:** I was actually going to write about how Marth and Roy got together when I saw the word 'coffee' somewhere. Inspiration struck, and thus this one shot was written. So **roflmort**, your suggestion will be number seven, I promise!

I'm still open to suggestions, of course. I love hearing new ideas, so fire away if you have any. Feedback is, as always, appreciated--good, bad, neutral... I love hearing from my readers!

_Jayden_


End file.
